


Actors, Though

by melanie1982



Category: RPF - Fandom, Wentworth Miller - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Other, RPF, iacceptthat, selfindulgentsmut, thestorydoesnthaverealsexinit, thisisfiction, yeshesgay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 00:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6632770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nina lands her first decent role, playing opposite the talented and scorchingly-hot Wentworth Miller in a small indie film. The storyline calls for a pretty intense foreplay scene. Nina knows Wentworth is gay, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy herself a little while the cameras roll...</p><p>This story is fiction. I don't know the characters in real life, and I make no money from this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Actors, Though

This was big. Nina had shot a few commercials here and there, had even done some cartoon voice-work (nothing on a mainstream channel) - but this was her first REAL part. She had lines; she had a dressing area (more of a closet than a room, but it WAS an indie film). She'd signed on for the part before her co-star had finalized his contract, but needless to say, she was thrilled to find she'd be playing Wentworth Miller's onscreen love interest.

He was just as she'd imagined: sweet, self-depreciating, soft-spoken - and talented. Not to mention hot. Nina tried not to focus on that part, but this was a dream come true: getting to make out with one of the most beautiful men she'd ever met, and getting paid for it? She must've saved a baby from a burning building in a previous life.

The film had a deadline of one month due to budgeting issues, so filming days were long and intense, starting before sunrise and often lasting late into the night. Going on so little sleep reminded Nina of her college days, and her energy levels regressed to that time of her life, too - as did her sex drive. Shit. Her dressing space was beginning to smell like sex, Nina retreating there more often than not during meal breaks. Wentworth, shirtless; Wentworth, soaking wet; Wentworth, giving her 'the look' (boy, was it convincing..) was more than she could handle. She was like a teenaged boy discovering his new best friend, and it was totally unprofessional - but not nearly as unprofessional as flirting with her costar would have been. Nina told herself it would pass, that the glow of infatuation and the constant thrumming between her legs would subside as she got to know him and found him to be an average human being - but things just got worse. It made for great film - several people praised her on her ability to blush at appropriate moments (if they only knew!), but it was so embarrassing.

By week two, Wentworth had to unravel the mystery of why Nina never ate with the other cast members. He knocked on Nina's door, and, expecting it to be her make-up/wardrobe assistant, she opened without thinking. As he took in the sight of her in her silk kimono-style robe and bare feet, a dab of sauce still lingering from the last bite of her food, he smiled - a slow, sly change taking over his lips and turning them up at the corners by degrees. Nina braced a hand against the doorframe, suddenly needed something to ground her, to root her to reality. Damn but he looked so.. predatory.

"Oh. Hi. I, uh, I thought it was Julie coming back for.. something."

He tried not to stare; he really did. "Sorry. You, um, you have something right.. " He motioned on his own face, brushing it with his fingertip at the exact spot where Nina had a glob of deliciousness stuck to her skin. She wanted to hide, to slam the door and dive under the pile of clothes on the end of her couch. It didn't matter that he'd never find her attractive; that didn't mean she wanted him to think she was an idiot.

"Oh. Thanks." Nina swiped at it, but didn't get it all. 

"You want me to get it? I know some people have a thing about personal space, so I thought I'd ask before I.."

She swallowed. "Before what?"

He brushed the side of her face with the pad of his thumb, pulling it to his lips and sucking it clean. "Wow. Is this why you always eat alone? That stuff's way better than the craft table." After a pause, he asked, "What is it? I mean, what culture does that dish come from?" 

Nina blushed, and there were no cameras to capture it. "It's Turkish cuisine. My grandmother's from there. Would you like to sit down?"

There was nowhere but the couch and the make-up chair, so Nina took the chair while Wentworth opted for the couch. 

"I don't want you to take this as me being cocky," he began, and Nina had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering at the sound of him saying 'cock' - "but, typically the girls who play my love interests try to hang around me more. Not you. Why is that? Do I stink?"

He sniffed at his own pit, and Nina died a little. How could someone so blisteringly hot be so self-depreciating? Did the man not own a mirror?

"Of course not!" Nina paused. "I, I guess I'm still a little star-struck." Lust-struck was more accurate, but the entire point of *not* socializing with him was to avoid telling him that and making things awkward, sooo..

"Well, I may have a longer resume than you do - so far - but I think you're doing a great job. Don't ever let anyone in this business make you feel like they're better than you. There is no such thing. There's just.. different."

Nina nodded, not fully understanding. 

"Do I come across as an asshole?"

She was glad she hadn't taken a sip of her lemon water yet, because it would've come spluttering out. "What? No! I mean, you're super quiet and professional, very focused, but, no. I figured you would be. Quiet, I mean. Serious."

The smile again. Dear God. "Well, I do have a silly side. Just to forewarn you. I've been known to get a little slap-happy as a project winds down. I've even played a prank or two."

Nina's turn to smile now. "Is that right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hmm. Well, thanks for the warning. I'll keep that in mind." The thought that he could be so sweet and proper one minute, then devolve into a naughty hottie the next, had her hungry for more than food. "Just so you know, me staying in here alone so much is all about me. Nothing personal." It was a damned lie, but it was a professional lie. You know, for professional reasons. Because it was important to be.. yada yada. She realized with a start that he was sitting right in the spot where she usually.. fuck. Could he sense it, like, pheromones? Did gay guys even notice female pheromones? 

"Would you like to take some of my leftovers with you? So you can get a reputation as 'the asshole who eats better food than everyone else on set'?" 

Wentworth rose to the challenge. "If you don't mind, I'd love some. Thank you." She made him a to-go plate, and as he headed out the door, he took a huge bite of pita bread soaked in the same sauce which had made her so endearingly messy. "Thank you," he enthused, his mouth full, but it didn't seem gross when he did it. Nina smiled as she noticed that he now had a matching sauce stain on one side of his mouth - almost as if she'd kissed him and left some behind.

\-----------------------------------------------

The sex scene was going to be filmed last (Nina hated calling it that, firstly because it wasn't, strictly speaking, a 'sex' scene, and secondly because she could hardly read that part of the script without feeling dizzy). The mood on set during what everyone knew would be the final few days was one of camaraderie and anticipation, along with some sadness that soon this goal they'd all been working towards would be reached, and they'd be at a loose end until the next project. Nina was again reminded of college, the final week leading up to graduation, wondering who she'd see again and who would simply disappear into the wide, wide world without a second thought for her.

She hoped she'd made a good impression on the director, producers, and other staff; a bad reputation (lazy, temperamental, late, whatever) was hard to overcome, unless you were A-List, of course. Nina knew she'd never play in the Big Leagues, but just making enough to cover the bills while doing what she loved was living her dream.

By day twenty-four, all the other actors were done filming. A few hung around, but most had already headed off to wherever they wanted or needed to be. It was late, and Nina had agreed to eat with the others for the past few days, meaning less alone time to.. take care of other appetites. She'd flubbed her lines three takes in a row, and she was losing patience with herself. Film was running low, and the pressure was on; mistakes were something they literally couldn't afford. Wentworth lowered his voice, speaking to her soothingly, almost hypnotically.

"You're doing fine. Really. Just, don't overthink this. We're young and in love; we're hot for each other. You've been in love before, right?"

Nina paled, nodding.

"Okay, great. So think back to that heady feeling, when you're alone with that person for the first time - really alone, and you know what you both want, what you need. When you let yourself go, and you just feel. Get into that headspace."

Now she was thinking of him, letting himself go, not thinking, just feeling - by himself, or with a guy, or - fuck -

"Nina? You okay?"

"I'm fine. Yeah. Let's try it again."

The command came from somewhere within the shadows - "Action!"

Things were going better this time, until he had to press her up against the wall, the seam of his jeans rubbing her perfectly through her robe - she flubbed her line. AGAIN.

"Cut! Dammit," Nina heard. Wentworth winced on her behalf.

"Sorry," she said, feeling like a little girl playing dress-up, like she didn't belong here. She wasn't good enough.

He stroked her face with his fingers, like a real lover consoling his girl. "You're thinking too much. Your character is wild; she's, she's turned on, she wants me to rip her clothes off, to just, devour her. Plunder her."

Oh God. Oh, holy fuck. Nina whimpered, leaning her forehead against his, not thinking. Her mind; where was her mind?

"See, that's good. Those little things that lovers do, they lean into each other. Their bodies belong to one another, so there's no awkwardness. Remember my comment that day about personal space? Well, lovers don't have personal space anymore. It's, like, shared space."

Lighting was being adjusted, the set being touched up, Nina's hair being fixed. She didn't notice any of it.

"Now, when they call action, kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like you want me to rip the panties off you."

"I'm not wearing any panties," she said breathily. She'd gone insane; there was no other explanation. Why had she just said -

"You're not wearing an -- well good. See? Because you're ready. You're ready to be the bad girl that John wants you to be."

They had a moment of just breathing each other in. He was holding her, gently, and yet she felt surrounded, pinned - 

"Let's go again.. and.. action!"

They kissed, and she slid her tongue into his mouth, taking the lead. He upped the ante by licking her tongue - he fucking LICKED it - and her legs splayed in a knee-jerk reaction, inviting his body closer. With Wentworth nestled against her *there*, she saw stars, tilting her head up for more of his kiss. He teased, tracing each lip with the tip of his tongue, pulling the lower one between his teeth and biting, then sucking, and she was so hot, and he was rubbing against her, grinding her into the wall and -  
Nobody yelled cut. She kept kissing him, putting her all into it; he alternated between sweet and dirty, angel and whore, and his chest was crushing against her breasts through the fabric of the robe, dragging across her nipples. It had been too long without release, and he was playing his part so convincingly..  
"I.. stop.. please.."

Wentworth stopped instantly, backing away as though she'd said a magic spell. He was a gentleman, and 'stop' meant stop. No exceptions.

"CUT! What happened? That was gold!" 

The director and two of the producers got into a heated discussion off to one side, and Wentworth looked at Nina - really looked at her, as if he was looking INTO her. Only a handful of people had ever looked at her that way, and it unnerved her.

He wasn't angry, even though it was late and he had to be exhausted and there were probably a zillion better things he could be doing right now than fake-dry-humping an amateur, but he was simply.. concerned. "Did I hurt you?"

"Oh, jeez, no. Please. It's nothing like that; there's no traumatic story to tell or anything, either. Just.."

"Then what? You were doing great."

Great. A hot gay guy thought she was great at pretend making out.

"If you didn't stop what you were doing, I was.." She mumbled the rest through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"If you hadn't stopped I was.." She repeated the incomprehensible syllables.

Wentworth arched an eyebrow. "One more time. Annunciate, please." He was trying not to smile, but damn it, she looked so lost, lips swollen, eyes wide, hair disheveled - 

Nina exhaled. "If we didn't stop right then, I was going to.. cum. Okay? I was going to get off."

Wentworth gave her a look she couldn't read. Nina made herself meet his gaze, and he wasn't looking down or away, wasn't frowning or acting grossed out.. Then he smiled. It was genuine.

"And here I thought you didn't like me."

Nina play-punched him in the arm. "Don't be smug."

He tried to compose a serious face. "I'm not. I'm not. I promise." Then, "I appreciate your honesty and professionalism and all, but why did you stop me?"

Incredulous, she stared. "I just told you why."

He shrugged. "Eh, perk of the job for you, occupational hazard for me."

She swallowed. "Did you just basically give me permission to .. use you? On camera??"

Another shrug. "I'm not offended. I mean, really, it's fine. Just.. One more take, and this time - "

He leaned close to her ear. "Don't. Tell me. To Stop."

Fuck. She almost slid down the wall. He'd used that tone, that cold-as-ice, hard-as-steel, I-will-fuck-you-and-then-kill-you tone.

Nina held her breath, her body shaking. Wentworth held her up, the heat of his hands burning her through the thin fabric.

"Can we do one more take, guys?" His voice was authoritative without being loud. How did he do that? 

Everybody scrambled to accommodate him, and the cameras were rolling.

"Okay.. Action!"

If Nina thought he'd teased her before, it was nothing compared to this take. He let his hands wander along her sides, along her ribs, her breath escaping in a hiss. His lips strayed from her mouth to her ear, totally not scripted, but when an exec tried to point that out, the director silenced him. The set was getting hotter by the second, and if anyone interrupted the momentum, it would be off with their heads.

Wentworth moved between her legs, his mouth tripping kisses down Nina's neck as his body pinned her to the wall. He nibbled the soft flesh there, and she moaned, hips arching upward, tilting for him to fill her. He could not meet that need, but he could press her harder - and he did so, dry cleaning bill be damned. She was so wet, the silk dragging against her skin, the rough seam of his denim fly hitting her clit perfectly, finding its mark. The bastard was doing it deliberately, and Nina dug her nails into his shoulders, which only seemed to inflame him. He knew he was going to be her undoing, that she was falling apart under his touch, and he would not let up. Nina delivered her line, and Wentworth - aka 'John' - said his. It was flawless, believable, and very sexy. 

Going for another kiss on her earlobe, he whispered barely above a breath, "Cum, Nina." His hips punctuated the command, and she flew to pieces, shuddering against his body, pinned between him and the wall. She had just had the best orgasm in living memory, in front of a camera crew and various other Hollywood types, given to her by a fully-clothed gay man. He held her until she stilled, their faces touching, her hands caressing him over and over, thanking him without words.

Silence in the room, like they were the only two people in the world. Then, a cry of triumph from the director. 

"That's it! Perfect! Wonderful! Six days ahead of schedule!" As the boss was happy, so the minions were happy; one female assistant excused herself to go have a cigarette, and the others burst into applause and spontaneous conversation, patting one another on the back for a job well done. 

Nina was speechless. She was, well, done.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Hard or not, didn't matter. I can't believe you.. fuck.. "

He laughed, and it was the single sexiest sound she'd ever heard - well, apart from him telling her to cum. "You're a lovely lady, Nina. It's been a pleasure working with you for these past twenty four days."

She nodded. He still hadn't moved to let her peel herself from the wall. Maybe she could keep the robe, or buy it off them. For, you know, sentimental reasons. 

"Thank you. For.. everything."

"You're welcome." He moved away gingerly, and she wondered too late whether she had hurt him. He'd left a love-bite on her neck, so if she'd mauled him a little, it seemed like a fair trade.

"See what I mean about my naughty side?," Wentworth couldn't resist adding. Nina needed to get out of here, before she said or did anything to get her arrested, or worse, anything that would hinder her future employment prospects. 

"I do. So.. Good luck with everything."

"You too, Nina." They shook hands, which felt awkward, considering they'd just, you know. He seemed to want to say more, but what more could be said?

As she walked away, he called out to her one more time.

"Hey Nina? I'm not wearing any panties, either." He pulled the waistband of his jeans down a little, flashing a hint of bare ass. His laughter was a blessing.

Fuck. So he'd been free-balling it while they were..

Sigh.

Actors, though.


End file.
